Dr. Stud

But now that he’s back in his home environment, this is a different sort of man. He walks with an animal strength, as though he’s only using 2 percent of the strength that he has. Like he could pounce into action at any time.

He returns with two champagne glasses filled with bubbling golden liquid and hands me one.

“Let’s get to know each other a little better, shall we?” he ask

s, pulling out a round-backed club chair for me. I sink into the antique leather, suddenly weary all the way down to my bones.

“Ask me anything,” I quip as I draw the glass up to my nose, sniffing against the tiny bubbles that burst in my nostrils. “I’m an open book.”

“Oh, I don’t think this has to be that kind of interview,” he sighs. “Let’s just have a conversation, if that’s all right with you? My brothers will probably ask you every question under the sun, anyway. No need for me to be redundant.”

“Of course,” I smile, remembering how he confidently fingered my pussy, bringing me to a quick and wonderful orgasm, exactly what I needed on my first airplane ride. “I mean, I feel like we already know quite a bit about each other. I’m a very good judge of character.”

He raises his eyebrows in a friendly challenge. The sunlight glances off the sculpted waves of his dark-blond hair. From the side, I can see his eyes are light green-gray. He looks very little like Royce, and I assume they take after different parents. I wonder if his light coloring came from his mother or father.

“I like to think I’m a good judge of character too,” he answers. “So, are you comfortable?”

“With the nanny… arrangement? Is that what you mean?” I ask brazenly.

I’m happy to see his grateful smile. I can tell that’s not a question he wanted to ask directly.

“I’m completely comfortable,” I shrug. “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”

“That’s good,” he nods. “I’m happy that you’re here. And was your meeting with Royce satisfactory?”

I suddenly realize that I’m being just a little bit dumb. Of course, when he said he wanted to have a conversation he didn’t mean that he wanted to have a real conversation. He’s just talking like a rich guy with manners, of course. He means, can I blow him too?

Well, turnabout is fair play, isn’t it?

“I would say that I started this trip completely satisfied,” I smirk, setting my champagne flute on the table and sliding from my chair. I knee-walk slowly toward him across the thick, plush carpeting.

“Ah, ahem... that’s wonderful to hear,” he says in a thick voice as he watches me approaching. When I finally reach him, I drag my nails across his knees, pushing them open so I can wedge myself between them.

“Oh, you are an unusual creature,” he murmurs. His hand slides up my shoulder and cups the back of my neck.

My pussy is instantly wet again, remembering how he treated me. Now I want to make him feel just as good. I slide my hands up his trousers and find his throbbing cock, taking it out through his fly. He slides down the chair so I can wrap my lips around it, covering him in slick saliva so that I can mouth the entire shaft.

“Ohhhhhh, unhhhhh, my God,” he moans, bucking against my tongue.

The soreness in my mouth goes away quickly as I set to the task of getting him as hard as he possibly can be. I cheat a little bit by using both my hands instead of deep-throating him, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

I’ve got his cock in both my hands, sucking hard on the head when I hear a door open. I open one eye to see what’s going on and see… him? Also coming through the door?

“Fuck yes... you’re gonna make me come!” he groans, plunging his cock against my mouth. I squint my eyes closed again, sure that I’m hallucinating or suddenly extremely drunk. Could he have drugged me in the champagne or something?

But I’ve got a job to do, and I’m going to do it. I squeeze his cock against my palms, urging him to come. He obliges instantly, jamming his dick to the back of my throat and emptying himself directly into my stomach.

“Oh, this is a pretty sight,” comes a voice from the side. I open my eyes again to see his mirror image standing over us, a wide smile on his face.

“Trey? What’s going on?” I ask the man in the chair as his dick goes soft against his thigh. His eyes are half closed and his mouth is open.

“That’s Brock,” the other voice says. I look up at him in alarm, then back at the nearly comatose man I just sucked off.

“He’s… wait. Who? What’s going on here?” I ask nervously, standing up and wiping my mouth.

The other man smiles and saunters toward the table, picking up a glass of champagne and downing half of it.

“I’m Trey. Remember me? From the airplane?” he reiterates slowly so I can figure it out.